Don't call me Cobra. Just don't do it.

I was verbally and emotionally accosted today by a foreign woman (she wouldn't tell me from where), who told me her life was ruined because someone, twenty-two years ago, used her first name (Cobra) fraudulently. Because of this scandal, her immediate family was all killed, the area above her business' drop ceiling was full of drugs, and she was being unfairly singled out for likely terrorist activity by Mayor Bill Clinton. In addition, the waist-high water accident in her shop was a conspiracy by the people next door who want her out so they can store even more drugs.

Yikes.

Please don't call me Cobra. Just don't do it.

What's Wrong With America

Well, this is just part of it, but it merits attention. Woman buys house for $1.2 million in 2005. Woman now feels the house is worth less because other houses in the neighborhood sold for $100k less. Woman sues her agent on the grounds he didn't disclose every sale price in the area.

I was brought up taking responsibility for my actions or inactions. Watching this pathetic woman makes me sick.

You didn't do your homework and may have paid too much. Suck it up, lady.

The coolest thing I never heard.

I was just looking over our wedding DJ's website, and really looked at our song list. We had a bitchin' play list, even though I can't remember a darn one. Here are my ten faves...

















1. Judas Priest; Metal Gods (Do NOT get married without this song.)
2. Dokken; Burning Like A Flame
3. Roxy Music; Love Is The Drug
4. Mighty Mighty Bosstones; Royal Oil
5. Kraftwerk; The Model
6. Lynard Skynard; Freebird (extended version)
7. The Toasters; Sweet Cherie
8. Bim Skala Bim; Hey Girl
9. 38 Special; Hold On Loosely
10. Pixies; Here Comes Your Man


If there's a tighter wedding playlist, well, sir...you're full of it. Let it go down in the annals of history that wedding song playlist perfection was attained on September 2, 2006.

Whoop! Whoop!

On growing old...

Oh, and while I'm reminiscing about Sir Edmund climbing the face of God at age 33, might I also throw in the fact that Julia Child started cooking with any real intent at age 37?

These people, and many more like them, continually inspire me to reach higher in my life, to accept that age is no excuse for complacency.

Thanks, for the pep rally, guys. Now in your honor I shall make a 29,028-foot souffle.

We finally knocked the bastard off...

"Well, George, we finally knocked the bastard off."

-Sir Edmund Hillary's first words (to friend George Lowe) upon returning from the summit of Mount Everest.









Sadly, one of my personal heroes from my childhood died of heart failure Friday. He was eighty-eight.

I always admired Sir Hillary for a number of reasons, not the least of which for his having stood as far off the surface of the earth as anyone can possibly do, and he did it first. What stuck with me most was that his conquest took place when he was 33 years old. How amazing is that?

We will miss you, Sir Edmund. Thank you for knocking the bastard off.

Legend of Midget Tree.

Last night, over drinks n' nibbles at a local restaurant, the Fox and I touched on an obscure but critical component of midget lore...the Midget Tree.

If you're not familiar, a Midget Tree is where a midget goes to die. At the end of their life cycle (which is longer than ours, by the way. One midget year equals almost three-and-a-half earth years,) they choose a tree to their liking, and become one with their new host. The tree then 'gives birth' to new midgets, like bearing fruit.

It sounds wonderful, I know. The beauty of nature doesn't overlook the midget one bit.

But there's a catch. There's always a catch. And I share this with you because you are my friends and I trust you not to abuse this powerful information.

If you stab the Midget Tree, any midgets born of that tree die.

Instead, why not nourish a Midget Tree? be kind to it, and feed it. To feed a midget tree is simple; it will eat anything that begins with the first letter "m" and the second letter a vowel. Like Mallow Bars, or (as a good friend pointed out) malt liquor.

So, be kind to a Midget Tree; you never know which tree could be one. And pass the legend on.

"Where have all the midgets gone?
Have they gone away for good?
Bring here some malt liquor,
And feed such tree,
As to bear more midget tree fruit for me."

-Attributed to Ricardo Montelbon

Ora guardi...questo prontissimo!

For reasons I can't exactly explain at the moment, this is the most brilliant f*cking thing I have ever seen. I think I've found my calling...

Romanza!

Actione!

Goblin!